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You unlock and unbar the door and swing it open.

"Hey, come inside. You don't want to be out there for long," you say.

"Thank you so much," the young woman says as she leads the man up the front steps. "I can't believe it, you're the first person who helped us."

The man wipes his feet on the welcome mat and taps the floor with his cane. "I'm Lyle Duncan. This is my granddaughter, Jillian."

Jillian pretends to curtsy, though her skirt's too tight. She tilts her head to the side and smiles, showing slightly angled teeth and a sharp overbite. Above her lip is the dot of a mole, and her blonde hair has dark roots.

"And I'm Luth."

"I love the uniform," Jillian says. "I respect the military."

Lyle unzips his windbreaker. "Listen, we don't want to be a bother. We can pay you if you'd like, and once the curfew is lifted, we'll head out." He shifts from leg to leg in a rocking motion.

"We really appreciate your help," Jillian says. She crosses her legs as she stands. "May I use your bathroom before I pee myself?"

"And I'm not sure you have first aid supplies, but I've got a cut on my leg I'd like to clean and bandage," Lyle says. As he points to his leg, you now spot damp blood near the ankle.